The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's pouring out of this ancient, ruined fountain, like, it's carved from a single massive block of onyx, and vines are growing out of the cracks. The air's heavy with the smell of wet earth and ozone-free stormy weather's brewing on the horizon. Umm, the sky above is this deep, rich purple and the sound of gentle, whispery chanting is echoing off the nearby, half-destroyed colonnades, which are somehow supporting a perfectly intact, delicate, crystal bridge that's just... arcing off into the distance, disappearing into a weird, distorted pocket of air.